The Fourth Age
by Biter of Ankles
Summary: The age of Elves is passed – the time of Men has come. Only remnants of the once great Elven people remain in Middleearth, yet even this seems too much for the new shadow which casts its gaze upon the weakened elves. [noncanon][Fourth Age]
1. Prologue: The Sea Calls Us Home

_**Disclaimer**_

_Seeing how as I haven't gotten a reply yet to the $15 and letter requesting all ownership of LotR property be shifted to me that I sent in, I suppose I don't own the people, places, books, etc yet. Yet._

_

* * *

_

**_Pairings_**

_I can't believe you're asking me this. There aren't really ANY pairings in J.R.R Tolkien's works. Just because Peter Jackson mutated it to be that somehow there's a big deal about Aragorn-Arwen doesn't mean I'm going to add my knife to the murder. Nope, there are no canon-canon pairings here!_

_Notice I didn't say anything about non-canon._

_There is a bit of OC-OC (Original Character – Original Character) but not much; I don't want to ruin the Tolkien legacy with mushiness._

_

* * *

_

**_Review Updates_**

I always love reviews, folks! The more the merrier – and the more inclined I am to continue writing! An author needs some motivation, ya know?

* * *

**_Summary_**

The age of Elves is passed – the time of Men has come. Only remnants of the once great Elven people remain in Middle-earth, yet even this seems too much for the new shadow which casts its gaze upon the weakened elves. non-canonFourth Age

* * *

**Prologue:**

**The Sea Calls Us All Home**

-

-

-

_Quote of the Chapter: The Age of the Elves was past – the time of men had come._

-

--

--

-

-

The sea calls us all home.

The dawn of the elves was past, and as their dusk neared so did the fair-folk take to their white ships and sail across the sea. Their silver ships docked in the Undying Lands, and so life and laughter began to fade out of sight and remembrance, back in Middle Earth. Some lingered, some tarried, but all in all – the sea calls us all home.

The Age of the Elves was past – the time of men had come.

The Lady Galadriel of the Golden Wood had passed beyond Middle Earth's borders, and Elrond Half-Elven, Lord of Imladris, had taken to the west along with the Elven Lord, Glorfindel and all of his house. Few now remained in the lands of men who still remembered the Noldor and others of the High Elves.

And so all that was and all that had-been came to be nothing but fables and stories, hidden beneath the legend and lore of men. Yet not all was forgotten.

In lands still rich with elven-lore; where the song of the wood-elves was still heard, here the fair-folk yet dwelled, and the memories of old were preserved. For Celeborn, Lord of Lothlórien no longer, had passed to Imladris, ancient home of Elrond – leaving Haldir of Lórien to rule in his stead, and Thranduil of Mirkwood still lived, though his son – Legolas Greenleaf – had passed beyond these lands with Gimli, son of Gloin; the last of the Fellowship.

For King Elessar, Lord of Men and Gondor in the West, he who was also Aragorn, son of Arathorn, and Dúnedain of the Rangers, was no more – and his wife, Arwen, daughter of Elrond Half-Elven, had wandered to Lothlorien, where she spent her last days. Eldarion, son of Aragorn, had risen to throne. The twin sons of Elrond, Elrohir and Elladan, dwelled yet in Imladris, Rivendell, and came forth now only to visit their mother's land of Lothlórien. Few of the elven folk ventured beyond their borders now, and their memory was preserved within their golden halls. The king in the west rarely called on those of elven descent now, and – as was the way with the shire-folk, and dwarven stonesmiths of the Lonely Mountain – the elves and folk of old passed into myth and tale.

For the sea calls us all home.

* * *

_-rubs hands together- well, this is going to be a challenge – I can tell! Writing a fanfic for a game is one thing; this is quite another! After all, I have my own 'style' of writing, and Tolkien has his. I'm trying to write in his 'style' as much as possible, but hey; I'm not Tolkien. There will be parts, without doubt, that sound nothing whatsoever like him. Most of it will probably sound unlike him, at that! So bear with me folk. Tell me what you think; if this is a disaster I'll cut it off and won't mutilate J.R.R Tolkien's work any more than I've already done; I respect him too much to do that._

_Warning: if you don't like OC (original character) stuff, I warn thee; do not read this! This is NOT a story talking about what happened to Sam or Merry after the story, or what happened if Legolas had stayed or something else. This is my rendition of what happened in the Fourth Age after the Fellowship had departed. That means COMPLETELY OC stuff. No canon people at all, except perhaps Celeborn, Thranduil, etc. No Aragorn, Legolas, Gimli, Sam, Frodo, etc. Thank you, and I hope you keep reading my story!_

_-Aiko_

-

--

---

Beneath the Mallorn trees – it waits.

Alone and unwanted; unloved and hated.

A button wastes away; so click it!

Its wait will be abated.

---

--

-

_Did that even rhyme?_


	2. Chapter One: Beneath the Mallorn Tree

_**Disclaimer**_

_J.R.R Tolkien is still ignoring my requests to obtain ownership of the books (meesh, those Gate-Guardian Angels to Heaven are really stubborn; don't seem to want to let me through. I only want to talk to him, guys! Seriously!)_

_

* * *

_

_Pairings_

_As mentioned previously, there are virtually no canon characters IN this fanfic, therefore there is virtually no pairing at all!_

'_Virtually' no pairing._

_There is a bit of OC-OC (Original Character – Original Character) but not much; I don't want to ruin the Tolkien legacy with fluff._

_

* * *

_

**_Review Updates_**

Reviews are loved and adored! You wouldn't want me to waste away thinking that no one likes me, would you? –sniff-

* * *

**_Summary_**

_The age of Elves is passed – the time of Men has come. Only remnants of the once great Elven people remain in Middle-earth, yet even this seems too much for the new shadow which casts its gaze upon the weakened elves. non-canonFourth Age_

_

* * *

_

**Chapter One:**

Beneath the Mallorn Tree 

-

-

-

_Quote of the Chapter: 'I am beyond help – my very sister laughs at me in my agony! Look! See! Behold, she laughs at me yet!' – Naríel Telperíon_

-

--

--

-

Perhaps it had been one year; or two, or even thirty, since Celeborn, Lord of Lothlórien had left the Golden Wood of song; Laurelindórenan, to travel for Imladris, leaving behind the lands in the stead of Haldir, Guard of Lórien. The elves within its golden halls were much diminished, they being the last of their race in Middle Earth. Long were the songs of old sang, yet in softness and quiet – for no more did the great host of elvenkind dwell beneath the _mallorn_ trees of Galadriel. Now time settled heavily over their boughs, and the only sounds were those of the lilting laughter of elven children, still young for their kind, as they capered beneath the heavily laden tree arms. Two such now stood beneath it, their dark hair spreading across tunics of light gray and silver; the colors of the _mallorn_ tree.

'Look! See the _elanor_ beneath the tree, Nienna?' the eldest of the two elf-maids turned her gaze, green as the emeralds of dwarves, to the thick grass upon which their bare feet rested – for it was not yet winter. It seemed that, for a moment, her eyes shone with beauty of the grass, and she replied in kind.

'Aye, fairest of all dwarven-hewn jewels, _elanor_, though – I would that there was more of it,' though her words began song-like, as though reciting the ancient tales of the West, they soon trailed off to childish wistfullness, and the light of wisdom and age faded from her green eyes. Besides her, the elvish maiden laughed with glee, her own eyes – as gray-blue as the sea – shining equally.

'Yes, but all fair things seem to fade now.' A touch of bitterness entered now into her voice, and the younger of the two stood silent for a while. Then Nienna – for so the oldest had been called – took the other's hand, and drew her away from the great tree.

'Perhaps this one will not. Come now though, Naríel; one fair thing soon to fade will be our mother's good grace if we are not back at her table soon!' and Naríel, for she it was whom Nienna now pulled, laughed and followed closely out of the clearing. Even after the elven children had faded out of sight, and their laughter was but a glancing memory held within the _mallorn_ leaves, their image remained frozen; Nienna's eyes a long forgotten green, while Nariel's held joy and wonder in their not so common sea gray depths.

For though Nienna and Naríel Telperíon both held the light of the Eldar in their gaze, they were but half-sisters; for Naríel Telperíon was Half-Elven, being of mortal father and elven mother. Little time had passed in their lives; each was yet a child by elven standards; Nienna having but reached the age of two and five, and Naríel only just five. Already, though, the doom of the Half-Elven had settled on the slim shoulders of the younger, and many were the eyes of the Eldar that looked upon her dark-haired form with pity.

-

'Something tells me that this isn't a good idea,' next to her, the younger elven maid paid no attention to the cautious whispers of her elder sister, creeping ever closer to the cluster of trees, their interwoven trunks glistening with the cast shadows and light that played about their bark, turning each into an ethereal being of the West.

'Naríel…' but the elder's warning went unheard, and still the gray-eyed younger crept closer. At last loosing what little patience she had, the elf leaned forward, gentle hand settling across her sister's arm. The young elf let out a shrill cry of surprise – quickly muffled by her sister's hand – and tumbled back into the fallen leaves, dragging with her the other elf. When at last she righted herself again, her dark hair fell in a light sheen across her back, and her sea eyes glared reprovingly back.

'We could have gotten closer!' the elder elf shook her head warningly, relaxing her hold upon the other's arm now.

'Nienna!' the sea-eyed one, Naríel, moaned softly, leaning back into the trunk of a golden tree, hands busily brushing off leaves that clung stubbornly to the tunics of gray they both wore. Now she gave her sister a dark look. 'They would never have known.'

'Aye, same as they would never have known it was you above them that day in the summer months?' here Naríel blushed, and found a fallen leaf much to her interest. A broad grin spread across Nienna's face, and grasping a twig in her hand, she leaned across the gap and twitched it into her sister's side. The Elf gave a small gasp, and twisted out of range, gray eyes alight with laughter though when she spoke now her voice was stern.

'Now, what was that for?' next to her, Nienna withheld a laugh with great strain.

'They would ne'er have known, would you say so?' said Nienna, and she raised a hand before Naríel could part her lips to speak. 'Answer not! For I know what you would have said, and between the both of us –' here she raised a finger to her lips, and let a smile grow across them '– I would have it be known that, even if it were not for the fateful leaf, still would the Galadhim have seen us that day.'

'You have little faith in me, sister,' said Naríel, but lo! Though her words were sorrowful her voice was filled with mirth, and her eyes shone with remembered laughter and Nienna too found cause to smile at the memory, eyes of emerald dancing. Beneath the _mallorn_ leaves, where once fair Galadriel and Celeborn had walked, the two now held each other, tears of mirth and laughter from forgotten times sparkling in each other's eyes. When at length their laughter ceased, the sounds of many feet could be heard, and Naríel's eyes widened.

'Done already!' cried the young Elf, moments before shooting towards the silvery trees about them, hands and feet finding hidden holds to clamber their way up into the foliage. Close behind was Nienna, and she cast one look back at the elven folk close on their heels, then she too followed her sister into the hidden branches of the tree. It was not until the both of them were crowded together, fallen leaves decorating their shining hair, and twigs protruding from their sleeves, that they at last dared to speak softly in whispers meant only to reach the other's ears.

'Aye, done, and we too would be "done" had they found us listening!' replied Nienna shortly, 'did I not say that one day your habits would be the doom of us?'

'My habits?' responded Naríel, eyebrows arched high above her sea eyes, 'oh dearest sister, when did it become "my" habits in stead of "our" habits? For are you not so much at fault as I?'

'Alas!' laughed Nienna, her eyes shining with the mirth of her attempt to so imitate the manner and speech of her elders. 'You are right yet again, Naríel – you can be no more at fault than I. For surely I should have sat on you rather than let you continue this venture!' Here she fell to silent laughter, and soon Naríel too joined in, and the two hovered on the brink of falling, bodies shaken with silent mirth as the company of elves passed beneath them. Now though, the two sat straight again in an attempt to regain their former dignity.

'Thee couldst not hold me were it be that I was want to go!' said Naríel, and then both fell to laughter at the slaughter of the old tongue in which Naríel vainly sought to speak.

'I would not try that again,' replied Nienna, scarcely concealed mirth dancing at the corners of her eyes, 'you sound not so much as an elder elf, but more to a dwarf!'

'Insults! You have hurt me, Nienna, and deeply so!' said Naríel, and she clutched at her heart as though to indicate a mortal wound, 'I am beyond help – my very sister laughs at me in my agony! Look! See! Behold, she laughs at me yet!' for indeed Nienna now bent over in silent laughter, the leaves muffling her choked giggling. All would have been well now, if only the elven maidens had chanced to look below them and see that not yet had all of the elven host departed – indeed, several had hesitated below their very tree, speaking in soft whispers. Alas! For Nienna did not look down, and instead turned back to her sister, no longer bothering to keep her voice lowered.

'Yes, I _am_ laughing at you – you too would laugh if you could only see your face!' cried Nienna, green eyes creased up at their corners with merriment. Naríel appeared close to answering, when the unfortunately familiar voice of Amras, master of archery, drifted upwards through the leaves.

'…is it just my old ears once more, Mennan, or do you too hear the sounds of elven voices?' at this Nienna fell silent, eyes huge in sudden fear for Amras was master of archery, and of all the elders and sport that the elven maiden pursued, archery was by far the best and most favorable one for her. Alas though, for Naríel had not heard the softly spoken words and continued in her laughter, pitching perilously to each side until – lo! She swung too far to the left and, as branches eluded her franticly waving hands, plummeted down into the midst of the elves below. A frantic grasp for her sister's hand sent Nienna too plunging down from the tree. Her wide eyes had time to meet the furious ones of the archery master before burying themselves ten inches deep in fallen leaves.

'Nienna! A hand up, please?' came the muffled voice of Naríel from within the leaves. Being given no hand up (for Nienna was occupied with other affairs of much importance) the younger elf was forced to pull herself up, tugging withered leaves from her hair as she did so. Having not yet seen their unfortunate…guests…she turned to lecture her sister.

'Come now, a hand isn't too hard to grant, is it, Nienna?' then Naríel fell silent, for at last her eyes had caught the forms of Amras, and Mennan, and other such elves in a ring about them. Now the archery master stepped forward, and his tired eyes were for Nienna alone.

'Child, how many times has it been now that we have warned you to cease your ramblings about above our heads? I am not the only elf who will have a bump the size of a tree stump on his head to-morrow.' Said Amras, his voice stern, 'nor does the credit all go to you, bumbling elfling though you may be,' now his gaze turned to Naríel, and became if possible more stern, 'your sister is due some form of recognition as well.' Naríel quailed under the elf's harsh gaze, and feverishly wished that she had taken some form of due interest in the art of archery, instead of spending her evenings among the sword-wielding of the elves, for it could not but help now that Nienna had spent _her_ afternoons often in the company of Amras. Now though, Amras turned to Nienna once more, and it seemed that a forgiving light had entered his eyes.

'This once I shall let you pass by, Nienna,' said Amras, 'but do not count upon it happening twice. My head is quite sore now, and it needs no more falling elves on it for quite some time.' He inclined his head to Naríel, by way of showing that she too was included in this warning, and then turned back to the path the elven company had been walking before the 'drop', if you would, from the trees.

'Yessir, thank you sir, good-bye sir,' replied Nienna and, before Naríel was even fully aware of what had happened, her sister was dragging them away, pausing every five steps to bob down and up again in a short bow. Once she was sure that they had passed beyond sight, the elder's grip tightened, and Nienna swiftly dragged Naríel behind a tree.

'_See_? If Amras hadn't _happened_ to be there we'd be Valar-knows-where now! Probably at the bottom of the Sea!' Naríel made a face, but was forced to nod in agreement. She hadn't been expecting such leniency from anyone, and was as shocked as her sister to find that they would escape with only a warning.

'Perhaps so,' admitted Naríel, scuffing a foot along a _mallorn_ root, 'but we're fine now, and if we had only listened to me in the first place we would have known when the meeting was over and never been surprised!' to this Nienna could only throw up her arms, eyes turned upwards to the sky.

'Valar grant me patience!'

* * *

_-dies and is reborn- that has to be one of my worst chapters EVER written for ANY fanfiction! Tolkien must be turning over in his grave to have such as this being named a LotR fanfic…-trails off in horror-_

_Ahem, to clear up the confusion…the reason I have chosen to use 'this is speaking' instead of the universal "this is what the person is saying" is because, if you have read any of Tolkien's work, you will notice that instead of using "" to signify speech, he uses '' for character talk. Therefore I have done that in this chapter as well, seeing how as I AM trying to write as much like Tolkien as is humanly possible._

_I am taking a poll for the next chapters; PLEASE, all EXPRESS YOUR OPINION for the poll! I shall not write any more chapters until at least three people have expressed interest in one of the options._

_#1 – Aiko will continue writing this way and attempting to imitate J.R.R Tolkien's style of writing_

_#2 – Aiko will revert to her own style of writing (examples can be found in her other fanfictions)_

_#3 – Aiko will stop mutilating Tolkien's work and will stop work on this fanfiction_

_#4 – Aiko will revert to her own style of writing and rewrite this chapter so that it is in her own style._

_#5 – Aiko will attempt to do a blend of her own style and Tolkien's style_

_#6 – Aiko will do something other than the choices represented here (please indicate what _

'_other' is!)_

_Please vote for one of the six! Express your preference in some form of review/PM to me!_

_-Aiko_

-

--

---

There once was a button –

Who lived without pride.

Clickeh on this button –

And he won't have to hide!

---

--

-

I_f my rhymes were bad before…well, they're not going to get any better, folks!_

_I never set any 'review standards' (e.g. "I must get 50 reviews before I continue" presumably because I don't –cough- get many –cough-) but it would be nice to top 10 before the next chapter! –wishful thinking-_


End file.
